


constellations connect me to you // stars guide us home

by ephemerality



Category: Barbie as The Princess and the Pauper (2004)
Genre: Gen, Multi, for my lovely daughter's bday!!!!, happy birthday darling anna, here's the ot4 i promised during the stream, not you anna i won't fight you on your bday unless you want me to, yes this is super star centric come fight me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2017-06-28
Packaged: 2018-11-20 01:24:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11325756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ephemerality/pseuds/ephemerality
Summary: "Give them my love too," he whispers, and they twinkle like a wink, or a promise.





	constellations connect me to you // stars guide us home

**Author's Note:**

> to anna  
> words cannot express how much i love you. may this year be everything you hope it will be <3
> 
> and [here's](http://carrotcouple.tumblr.com/post/162344288706/shadownightes-anna-bat-daughter-happy) sunny's art for you!!!

Anneliese

 

The palace has been much warmer since her father died.

She suspects that's her mother's doing. At the funeral, she'd murmured something, about how it would be a lot colder without her father around. She hadn't thought her mother had heard. But ever since then the fireplaces have been lit day and night, despite summer's rapid approach. Her bed has three extra blankets in it now, and quite frankly the palace has been burning up but she's not about to complain. This is her mother's way of saying, _I care_ , and she appreciates it more than anything. But it's been nearly a week and if she'd stayed indoors any longer she might've suffered heatstroke. So here she is, sitting under her father's favorite willow tree in the royal gardens, Serafina curled around her legs, with a book bigger than her head, wanting to read but unable to focus.

It's a book about galaxies and suns and planets, her favorite. The librarian had suggested it, knowing that she had a strong preference towards enormous books and that she loved the science of the stars, but today it's impossible to focus. She always used to come here with her father. Without him it feels empty.

The sun is just beginning to set, and she's running out of reading light when she hears footsteps. She pretends to be absorbed in her book. They'll pass on by, and she'll continue to pretend.

A shadow falls over her, but she doesn't look up. _Stars, and stars, and oh look it's a galaxy of stars, how amazing!_

Skirts rustle, and the smell of a familiar perfume hits her nose, and then her mother asks, "May I read with you?"

Of course she's startled. Her mother has never shown an interest in her books before. She's always wanting to play with dolls, or dress up, or dressing themselves up to match the dolls and having a tea party, and not the fun kind with rabbits and hats, either. Her father was the one who would read these books to her as bedtime stories, and sit with her in the garden and--

_Oh._

"Of course you may," she murmurs, thinking her mother will tell her off for mumbling and leave in a huff, but instead her mother smiles gratefully and sinks down in the grass next to her. Serafina presses closer to her, and the silence stretches for what feels like eternity but she's fairly certain is only a few minutes.

She turns the page to find a map of the constellations. Excitedly, her mother gestures at it. "Look, Anna Banana, it's the mama bear and the baby bear!"

_Look, Anna Banana._

Later she'll say that she's not sure what triggered it. She'll say that she has no idea what came over her, that she was simply overcome, and that she's fine, just fine. But right now, as she sobs in her mother's arms, and feels the wetness against the top of her head, the garden doesn't feel quite so empty. Above them, the stars sparkle.

 

 

 

Julian

 

"What's that one called?" the child on his shoulders demands eagerly.

He tries to keep the laughter out of his voice, but is only half successful. "That's the belt of Orion."

"Who's Orion?"

"Orion," he says, pleased the kid asked, "was part of a Greek myth. He told everyone that he was the greatest hunter in the world, and Hera got so mad that she had a scorpion kill him, and her husband Zeus made him into a constellation for all to see."

The child contemplates this for a moment, while he simply enjoys looking up at the stars and tries to ignore the kink in his neck. Then: "Who's Hera again?"

He taps their knee, laughing. "The queen of Greek gods, silly."

"Who're the Greek gods again?"

"Who're you again?"

The child laughs, delighted. "Who're _you_ again?"

"I'm stardust," he says, because he's looking at the stars and it's the first thing that comes to his mind. He decides it's rather clever and stores it in the back of his mind for later use.

"What's stardust?" He considers for a moment messing around some more, maybe giving a joke answer, but the curiosity in the child's voice is genuine, and the tutor in him never could shy away from an inquisitive young mind.

He shifts them on his shoulders. "You know how stars are bright, and beautiful? Well, even stars die. And all they leave behind is dust. And sometimes, that dust falls to Earth, and it becomes a part of us. So in a way, we're all part stardust."

"I'm stardust?"

"You," he says truthfully, "are most definitely made of stardust."

The child seems to like this answer. They point at another star in the sky. "What's that one again?"

He smiles. "That's the North Star."

"I like it," they decide. "It's the brightest. Julian, I want to be made of North Stardust."

"Nope, nope," he tells them. "That one has to stay. If you follow it, it'll always guide you home."

He knows the second those words leave his mouth that he shouldn't have said them. The child's whole body begins to vibrate with excitement.

"So if I follow it right now, it'll take me to my house!?"

"Well, not exactly--"

They're already grabbing at his hair, trying to get down. "Show me, show me!"

His romantic side had always thought of home as a person, not a place, but he supposes he can indulge the child this one time. He is supposed to be tutoring them, after all.

 

 

 

Erika

 

They died together, at least. She takes solace in that.

 _A miracle_ , they say. _The only survivor of that wretched house_ , they say. _It's a good thing Madam Carp is generous enough to take the poor girl in_ , they say.

It wasn't wretched. It was wonderful. Certainly far better than this prison. But the proper, churchgoing folk will never see that. They don't want to see. She pities them their ignorance.

That evil woman throws her newly made dress on the ground and stomps on it. "Awful! Do it over, from scratch. The materials will come from your wages."

She stares at the hole that those awful heels made in the skirt. _You don't pay me,_ she thinks.

"What are you looking at?" Madam Carp demands, stepping off the dress and into her face. The scrunched up expression makes her think of a dried-up muffin. She decides right then and there, that's what she's going to call this crazy lady.

The Dried-Up Muffin grabs her chin with one hand and her wrist with the other, and forces her to look her dead in the eye. "What's so funny, huh?" Wolfie growls warningly, but she silences him with a look. If they get kicked out, they have nowhere else to go right now.

When she doesn't answer, the Dried-Up Muffin snarls, "Maybe a day without food or water will remind you who's in charge around here," and storms out. Probably to go home for the night and complain about how awful and lazy her new slave is. Oh, sorry. _Indentured servant._

She sighs, rubbing what will surely be bruises on both her wrist and chin, watching the door slam. She's been here nearly a week and so far she's only eaten when she goes to the barn a mile away and fetches her own eggs. Stolen, of course, but she's the daughter of poor pagans, so really, she's just living up to the expectations set for her, at this point.

It's going to be morning in a few hours, but she can still see the stars through the shop window. Just looking at them calms her down a little bit. She bends to pick up the battered dress, and lays it on the sewing table. "At least we match now," she mutters, trying and failing to not sound bitter. Wolfie rubs against her legs, and she picks him up, pressing her face to his fur.

She crosses to the window and opens it, breathes in the night air. It's refreshing, awakening. The stars shimmer at her, like they're trying to offer comfort.

_"The stars are kind, Erika. Talk to them. Sing to them, if you like." A smile. "They will always listen to you. Who knows, maybe one day we'll be up there, and you can sing to us whenever you like."_

_"What if I can't see the stars?" She can hear her own voice, years ago, nearly unrecognizable to her now. "What if I can't see you?"_

_Arms wrapped around her tight. "We'll never really leave you, Erika." A finger, tapped against the left side of her chest. "We'll always be right there. The stars are in the sky always, even if you can't see them."_

She smiles through her tears, and opens her mouth to sing.

 

 

Dominick

 

He likes to talk to the stars. They look like good listeners.

He could be wrong, of course. They could be ignoring him. They could be laughing at him. They might not even be able to hear him. But he doesn't want to believe that. They strike him as friendly and gentle and kind.

Tonight they shine especially bright, like they're watching over someone, and he wonders who it could be. Certainly not him, he's doing just fine. It must be someone who needs help. Someone who's lonely, or scared, and needs ageless balls of fire to love them from light years away.

"Dominick!" This has to be the fourth or fifth time his brothers have called his name. Are they hoping he'll give himself away? It's not like they could reach him up here, on the roof of the highest tower of his parents' castle. He'll have to wait here until morning, when they're long gone, and then he'll climb down the rope that he tied to the top of this tower for occasions just like this. The guards will probably have a heart attack again, but he figures they should be used to it by now. Maybe he can get the chef to make scones for him to share with them as penance.

"Dominick, where are you?" They're laughing, like they think it's some sort of game, like they won't shove his face in the dirt as soon as they catch him, and he prays to the stars that they never find him, or he'll lose the only safe place he has left. Then he remembers they're busy watching over someone else, and rescinds his prayer. Whoever they are, they probably need the stars more than he does.

"Give them my love too," he whispers, and they twinkle like a wink, or a promise.

 


End file.
